


With Nastya succumbing to a computer virus

by trialbyfic



Series: they are siblings (and they care for each other) [1]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Jonny and Nastya are siblings, Marius Is Only A Competent Medic When It Serves The Plot, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Sickfic, gotta love writing things that contradict my earlier works, i.e. marius being a real doctor, imagine that Out never happens so that we can preserve our happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialbyfic/pseuds/trialbyfic
Summary: "So, a computer virus, huh?" Jonny says, his teeth gritted as he hacks at the stubborn twine. "How'd he manage to infect you with it?""Fucker corrupted one of Aurora's terminals," Nastya mutters darkly, "And he hid the virus in there. So when I connected with her interface to see what was wrong..." Nastya splays her fingers and swings her hand in an arc, a vague gesture at her current circumstance.---It's time for a Nastya sickfic!
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville & Nastya Rasputina
Series: they are siblings (and they care for each other) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926106
Comments: 29
Kudos: 171





	With Nastya succumbing to a computer virus

**Author's Note:**

> jonny d'ville: *commits nearly every crime under the sun*  
> us: let jonny be soft 2020!! 
> 
> anyway, this idea's been rattling around in my head for a while now, and it only took experiencing a terrible headache myself to finally put it into words (bonus points if you're familiar enough with my work to guess what time i wrote it at)
> 
> CW: like the tags say, this is a sickfic, which might be a touchy read for people during this current pandemic. what i've written doesn't relate to current events in any way, but read with yourself in mind! the symptoms that nastya experiences are akin to the common cold/flu- headache, lethargy, difficulty breathing, and she passes out at one point. let me know if i've missed any warnings/tags!
> 
> title is from The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard, from the Tales To Be Told album! (you don't know how happy it makes me that i still get to claim a song for the title)

Nastya stares numbly at the swirling of kaleidoscopic colors visible within the veins of her arms. Occasionally, a spark flashes beneath her skin with a sharp jolt of pain, leaving behind a slight burn. Jonny kneels in front of her, working with a knife to cut through the rope that's been wrapped around her wrists.

  
"So, a computer virus, huh?" Jonny says, his teeth gritted as he hacks at the stubborn twine. "How'd he manage to infect you with it?"

  
"Fucker corrupted one of Aurora's terminals," Nastya mutters darkly, "And he hid the virus in there. So when I connected with her interface to see what was wrong..." Nastya splays her fingers and swings her hand in an arc, a vague gesture at her current circumstance.

  
Jonny slaps her hand away as it nearly gets in the path of his knife. "Don't move. I'm almost done." A few forceful tugs of the knife later, one in which Jonny nearly stabs himself, and the rope falls away.

  
Nastya sits hunched, eyes glazed over in an ill haze. When she doesn't make any moves to get up, Jonny nudges her with his foot. "Hey. Rope's gone. You can get up now."

  
"Oh." Nastya braces a hand on the wall and stands up on trembling legs. The simple act already has her exhausted, feeling as if she's run a mile- her heart pounds wildly, and she gasps for air that doesn't seem to fill her lungs.

  
Just as she thinks that she's about sink back to the floor, Jonny steps in, guiding her left arm across his shoulders, and holding her upright against his right side. "Damn. This is really doing a number on you, huh?"

  
Nastya nods, but the motion hurts her already aching head, and she quickly stops. "He's... Pilchard's no Marque de All the Knives, but he did his research where it counts." A thought suddenly strikes Nastya, and she giggles loosely. "...Caved into Octokitten pressure, Jonny?"

  
Jonny huffs indignantly as he leads Nastya out of the brig. "Oh, shut it. You know damn well how overwhelming those things can be when they swarm."

  
Nastya thinks that she'd very much like to keep teasing Jonny about this, but it's difficult enough to breathe without trying to speak, so she diverts her focus to keeping herself upright as Jonny takes them through the Aurora's halls, following a path that Nastya recognizes as the way towards her room.

  
"Are you sure you don't just want to be killed?" Jonny says after a few minutes of silent walking, with only the sounds of Nastya's chattering teeth (When did she start shaking that badly?) and stuttered breathing to fill the air. "It might reset your system, and get rid of the virus. Emphasis on might. I don't really know how your mechanism works."

  
"Jonny, if... you kill me, I swear you'll-"

  
"-End up like Tim after his retrofits to the Aurora, yes, I know. I was there, I saw the mess. It's a real threat, you'll follow through on it if you need to, I get it." Jonny finishes the rest of the threat for her, their usual back and forth familiar and learned.

  
"...Good. Dying wouldn't... work with this virus, anyway. It has... to run it's course."

  
"Great. Fantastic," Jonny grumbles. "Fuck Pilchard, and fuck his plan. I hope the Doc made him regret it."

  
Nastya feels a shiver run down her spine, this one unrelated to her illness. "I'm sure she did."

  
A moment later, Jonny rounds a corner too sharply, and the suddenness of the movement has Nastya's vision sparking and blotting out at the edges of her periphery. She blinks, trying to clear it, but the dark blotches begin crawling to the center, filling in her entire vision. There's an odd, painful pressure in her ears, and her limbs are becoming increasingly numb and challenging to maneuver.

  
Oh. Oh no. She knows what this is.

  
"Hey, Jonny," Nastya pants, nearly ever word requiring a full breath to say, "Did... you know... that the la... st thing to go before... you pass out is... your hearing?"

  
Jonny's response starts off with "Yeah, why are-", but the rest fades into something indiscernible, muffled in a way that sounds as if he's speaking to her while she's submerged in water.

  
"Aha. Thought so," Nastya says, and the world cuts outs.

  
***

  
"Nastya?!"

  
Nastya goes limp beside Jonny, and he quickly lowers her to the floor, propping her against the wall.

  
"Nastya." Jonny shakes her, pats her cheek. "Nastya, c'mon, wake up."

  
Nastya's head lolls, unresponsive.

  
"Shit." Jonny knows very well that he can't carry Nastya on his own, with her being as tall as she is (and him being as short as he is.) Jonny pats her shoulder twice in a half-hearted 'stay there' motion, and takes off to look for the Toy Solider.

  
Jonny finds it in one of the storage lockers, helping Tim to rearrange the room after his fight with Pilchard seems to have thrown it into disarray. ("Ashes O'Reilly and Gunpowder Tim, laid low by brute force alone", Jonny recalls).

  
"Fucking... hate that man. Hate Pilchard. Biggest clown in the circus, laughed out of town, goddamn piece of sh-" Tim looks up from the remains of an unsalvageable crate, the wood splintered and stained with blood, and notices Jonny standing in the doorway. "Oh. Jonny. Need something?"

  
"Need the Toy Solider to help me carry Nastya. The computer virus from Pilchard is really knocking her out."

  
"Huh. Can't you just kill her to make the virus go away?"

  
"Doesn't work like that, apparently. Anyway, she threatened me with the Retrofit Consequence if I did."

  
Tim groans and places his head in his hands. "Ugh, don't remind me."

  
"Hey, you're lucky! You weren't the one to walk in on the mess unsuspecting!"

  
"I WAS the mess!"

  
"So what? I think I had it worse as the observer, honestly."

  
"You think you had it worse?! I-"

  
"Solider!" Jonny calls, ending the conversation right where it is. "Come help me carry Nastya to her room!"

  
"Yes, Sir!" The Toy Solider immediately stops what it's doing, letting a crate fall from its hands, and follows Jonny out of the room. Tim shouts a hearty "Fine! Take my helper and fuck off, why don't you!" after them.

  
Nastya is still unconscious when they get back to her, her head slumped forward and her hands lightly twitching where they sit in her lap. Jonny approaches her and tries again to wake her up, to no avail.

  
"How Shall I Carry Her, Sir?" The Toy Solider asks, standing at the ready with its arms stock still at its sides.

  
Jonny pauses for a moment, thinking. "I think a bridal carry will jostle her less, so go for that."

  
The Toy Soldier easily scoops Nastya into its arms, adjusting her so that her forehead comes to rest against its right cheek instead of being tilted back. "Like This?"

  
(A girl lays limp in the Doctor's arms, her white Cyberian dress stained a horrible dark red near the chest, and her skin ashen. She's so young, and it's not fair, and the Doctor won't listen-)

  
Jonny screws his eyes shut and shakes his head roughly, willing the memory away.

  
"Not Like This, Then?" The Toy Solider says.

  
Jonny opens his eyes. "No, no, that's- that's perfect, Solider. We're taking her to her room. Come on." Jonny begins leading the way again, beckoning the Toy Solider after him.

  
***

  
Nastya tosses and turns restlessly in her bed, sweating profusely and radiating an unnatural heat. (Unnatural, as in the usual amount of heat for a human body, which for Nastya is frighteningly warm.)

  
Jonny paces back and forth length of the room, entirely unsure of what to do. The crew hardly ever gets sick, with their mechanisms taking care of it before it's even an issue. And if it does become an issue, a bullet to the head is usually the best remedy. Neither of these things are possible in this case.

  
"Maybe we should let the Doc have a look at her," Marius suggests at one point, having come along with Ashes to check in on Nastya. He kicks at the carpet nervously as he talks. "She knows the most about Nastya's biology, and-"

  
"We are NOT letting the Doc near Nastya. Not while she's in this state," Jonny says forcefully, pausing his pacing to glare at Marius.

  
"But what if it's damaging her mechanism, somehow?" Ashes says. "The augmented reality interface, and the quicksilver the Doc replaced her blood with- there's no way they're not interconnected. She should really be looked at by Carm-"

  
"I know what should be done, okay?" Jonny interrupts, "And it's exactly what I'm not going to do. At least, not now. You both get why, right? You know how painful it can be when the Doc checks up on our mechanisms."

  
Marius and Ashes flinch simultaneously, then share a look with each other.

  
Ashes nods. "Yeah. Yeah, we get it." They brush a sweat-damped lock of hair out of Nastya face and tuck it behind her ear. "Let us know if things get worse. Not sure if there's anything we could really do, then, but... still. Let us know."

  
Marius sighs, sending a despairing glance at Nastya. "Top ten moments I wished I was actually a doctor," He mumbles under his breath, and he leaves the room with Ashes.

  
Jonny watches them walk out, absentmindedly chewing at his lip. He stands there until a frustrated noise from the bed beside him grabs his attention, and he turns to see Nastya, still asleep, grasping near her holster for her gun.

  
"Nope, nuh-uh. Already confiscated that the first time you tried to shoot me in your fever-haze." Jonny takes her hand and lays it palm-down on the mattress. "You won't find any weapons on you."

  
Nastya other's hand digs in the space between her bed and the wall, and comes back brandishing a knife.

  
"Oh my god," Jonny chuckles, both amused and exasperated, and easily takes the knife from her sleep-weakened grip. At this, Nastya shakes her head tiredly, and her eyes flutter open.

  
"Are you awake, now? Done trying to maim me in your sleep?" Jonny says.

  
Nastya stares blankly at him for a moment, blinking blearily, before replying. "Is that why you're holding my knife?"

  
"Yup." Jonny tosses the knife onto the nightstand. It clatters loudly against the wood, and Nastya makes a pained sound in response. "Ah, shit, sorry. Still pretty bad, then?" Jonny asks.

  
Nastya lets out a quiet, miserable "Mhm. Headache," and grips the blanket beneath her. She looks to be on the verge of tears- her eyes tightly shut, her lips pressed together, and her chin twitching.

  
"Right, fine. Sit up," Jonny says, taking hold of her arms and pulling her into a sitting position.

  
"Mmf- Nooo, stop-" Nastya whines, but she doesn't try to fight back, and Jonny settles on the bed behind her.

  
"Okay- once again, Nastya, I don't know a lot about your mechanism, or system, or whatever- but I have something in mind that might help. I don't know if it'll do anything, but It can't hurt to fuck around and find out, can it?"

  
"It can, actually," Nastya says, "But go ahead."

  
Jonny brushes Nastya's hair away from the nape of her neck and presses two of his knuckles into the area near the base of her skull. Nastya doesn't react, so he moves his knuckles down a bit further, along her spine, and she hisses in pain.

  
"It's sore there?"

  
"A lot," Nastya confirms.

  
"Good." Jonny proceeds to press his knuckles into the area with as much pressure as he can.

  
"Ow! Jonny, what-"

  
"Shh, I'm counting. Relax." 30 seconds later, and Jonny lets up the pressure. "Any better?"

  
Nastya straightens her posture, and tilts her head from side to side, testing her pain. "Y-yes, immensely, I- Jonny, what the fuck. What the fuck, Jonny. How did you- where did you learn that?"

  
Jonny shrugs. "You pick things up as you go. Nothing special."

  
(The room is dark- it has to be, because the light stings his eyes and makes his head swim. The door opens a crack, letting a warm yellow light bleed in, and Jonny flinches. "Oh, dear, Jonny-" A rough, familiar voice coos- his father- and the bed dips behind his trembling eight year old form. "Another migraine?" Jonny doesn't respond, save for a tired whimper. "Here, let me show you a little trick to get rid of these buggers.")

  
(And he hasn't forgotten.)

  
Jonny could leave, at this point- could call his work done and leave Nastya to her own devices- but he stays where he is, continuing to knead his knuckles into Nastya's still too warm skin. Nastya relaxes further as time goes on, leaning more and more heavily against Jonny, until she slips fully into his arms, and he realizes that she's fallen back asleep.

  
God, how long has it been since he's held her like this? How long has it been since it was just them on the ship, young and frightened, hiding in air ducts and hidden rooms to dodge the Doctor, whose her stalking footsteps would echo in a way that stopped them from ever being truly certain of where she was looking for them? (Whether purposeful or not, whether out of care or malice, she had hurt them in several ways, causing an irreparably distrust and fear of her to brew within them. And for that, Jonny hates her.)

  
Anger burns bright and harsh in Jonny's chest, and his metal heart pounds intensely against his ribcage. The Doctor will pay for this, he promises himself- promises Nastya, in a hushed whisper, as he gently works his fingers through various knots in her hair.

  
And yet- selfishly, horribly- Jonny is glad that there is someone like Nastya to spend this eternity with him, whether she particularly likes it or not. (He will never admit this out loud.)

(Maybe he and the Doctor aren't all that different, in this way.)

Jonny holds Nastya until her usual coldness returns to her, holds her until she starts to shift with vague wakefulness, then lowers her to her pillows and leaves the room, arms and back stiff from the hours of non-movement.

  
Nastya will join him in the Common, later, and band up with Tim to tease Jonny over the Octokittens. ("What do you count as a swarm, Jonny? Two? Three?") They will throw curses and bullets at each other and laugh all the while. They will fight with each other and fight together. Nastya will override the airlock protocols, and Jonny will give the final, fateful shove to the Doctor.

  
They will sit by the airlock that night, and wonder how long eternity will be. And they will promise that it'll be for however long they have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i never use italics or bolding in my works because i don't trust myself to wield that sort of power responsibly. also comments are my lifeblood and they're always appreciated <3
> 
> small edit, 09/15/2020: learned some more canonical stuff about carmilla, rephrased some things to make her read less like a Stock Villain.


End file.
